


tampa, 3 a.m.

by Batik



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-20
Updated: 2019-11-20
Packaged: 2021-02-13 15:39:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21496651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Batik/pseuds/Batik
Summary: They've already deleted the loss. Now to imprint this moment.
Relationships: Sidney Crosby/Evgeni Malkin
Comments: 18
Kudos: 66





	tampa, 3 a.m.

**Author's Note:**

> As always, there's a reason this is called "fic" — because it is fiction. (Also, as always, I owe much thanks to my beta, [VelvetPaw](https://archiveofourown.org/users/VelvetPaw). I tend to forget to mention it here amid the scramble simply to post, but your support always means a lot — and helps a lot!)

Sid leaned on his forearms on the balcony railing and breathed in deeply, barely blinking as he scanned the horizon as far as he possibly could with the privacy walls partitioning his space from that of the neighboring room.

He still wasn’t crazy about heights, but there was no sense of panic now, just a zen-like calm as he took in the view. Midday, the land- and seascape was bright and hot, the sun glinting harshly off of the water and the surrounding skyscrapers until it almost hurt. It was undeniably pretty, but borderline uncomfortable without a good pair of sunglasses.

Not so at 3 a.m. At 3 a.m., it was all soft, white lights and softer white noise — the artificial light of the city bouncing gently off of the water of Garrison Channel and, in the distance, the Ybor Turning Basin, and the sound an almost-not-there mix of sea breeze and water gently thwapping at the hull of the pricey boats docked a dozen stories below. Even the occasional distant cry of a seagull that had wafted his way earlier in the day had gone silent, the birds presumably taking a middle-of-the-night break from their scavenging to rest.

Sid considered that 3 a.m. was, perhaps, a golden hour, despite it being one of the few times of day when the Sunshine State wasn’t fully intent on earning its nickname. The hotel’s waterside restaurant had finally gone quiet after staying open late to accommodate the post-game crowd searching for one last drink to keep the night from ending, and the steady flow of pedestrians on the Riverwalk had trickled to a temporary halt.

He was just taking in another lungful of the night air when he heard the whisper of fabric as the curtain behind him parted, letting some of the room’s low light escape before the fabric fell back into place. Sid didn’t bother turning when he felt sturdy thighs press up against the backs of his legs, a firm arm curl around his waist, warm lips brush his bare shoulder.

Instead of speaking, Sid simply reached back and wrapped one hand around Geno’s lower hip, tugging him gently forward to press more firmly against the line of Sid’s back. He simultaneously pressed his own hips back until he could feel the line of Geno’s dick, impressive even when spent, through the combined weight of Geno’s lightweight hotel robe and his own silky-thin basketball shorts.

He made a point of grinding, just a bit, and was gratified to hear Geno’s low growl at his ear.

“Fill me up,” Sid said softly, angling his head so his breath brushed Geno’s ear as he spoke. “Please.”

“Sid …” Geno replied, his tone near-reverent. “You still want? After what we just do? You still _need_?”

“Yeah,” Sid said. “I do. I mean, not the same. I … that ... was great.”  
He moved his hand from Geno’s thigh long enough to make a vague motion toward their room, its king-size bed, the tangle of sheets and pillows and plush comforter still bearing testament to their enthusiastic post-game activities.

The 5-plus-minute review of Tanger’s last-second no-goal had been a tough pill to swallow in a game when Tristan had played his heart out and Geno had watched from the box as the rest of them had struggled valiantly to slip one past Vasilevskiy.

But, despite the disappointment, Sid had dealt with the post-game media, showered and joined Geno and a handful of their teammates in walking the 3 minutes back from the arena before begging off of whatever collective mind wipe the rest of them were planning. He and Geno had escaped to Sid’s room, made short work of their game-day suits and even shorter work of prepping Sid. Then Geno had slid home and proceeded to fuck him hard enough that echoes of the arena’s sound system playing the entirety of “Let It Be” during that endless video review had been replaced in Sid’s brain by a litany of “Geno, fuck” and “fuck, Geno” and the assorted aches of the game had been replaced by the lingering sting of the bruises Geno had sucked into his skin.

“Not sure my dick can do again so soon,” Geno said, with a soft laugh. “Pretty sure we almost break it just now, you come so hard.”

“Sorry,” Sid said, gaze never leaving the water as he stroked his hand up Geno’s thigh in comfort and his tone of voice made it clear he wasn’t at all repentant.

“No apologize,” Geno said. “Was good. So good. What you need now? I give. Just don’t want hurt you with too much too soon.” 

“You won’t, G,” Sid said softly. “I know you won’t. I don’t even know if I want to come again. But … this view. And the air. The sound of the water. Everything is so … calm. It’s …just kinda perfect, ya know?” Sid paused, sucking a quiet breath deep into his lungs before exhaling slowly, the rise and fall of it momentarily pressing his back more tightly to Geno’s front. “And I want to remember it, all of it, how perfect it is, right here, in this moment. "It's so ..." Sid sighed, his sentence trailing off for lack of words to adequately express himself. A lifetime of media training and he had no words for this.

It was a comfortable silence and they stood there for a long moment, wrapped in the sights and sounds and smells of the waterfront at night — and each other.

"The only way I can think to make this better," Sid finally said, "is to have you filling me up as much as this view is."

“So no wild fuck threaten to break balcony?” Geno teased gently, nuzzling at Sid’s ear.

“No,” Sid said, pushing back more firmly. He was pretty sure Geno had started getting hard again. “Just slow and deep and easy.”

“Can do that,” Geno said, running a finger around the waistband of Sid’s shorts before slipping his hand inside and sliding his palm over Sid’s ass. “Should go inside?”

“No,” Sid said. “Here’s good.”

“Outside?” Geno persisted. “Know you don’t want people see.” 

He wasn’t wrong — Sid was never going to be one for truly public sex. He had worked too hard for too many years to keep some bits of privacy for himself to risk it all for a few minutes’ fun in a restaurant restroom, especially in this day of ever-present cameras and any number of people who would pay to see Canada’s golden boy with his dick out. Not to mention what Flyers fans would do with such photos — aside from claiming they were Photoshopped.

But there also was no denying that everything about this was working for Sid. He had always loved being outdoors, and he could barely recall a time when he didn’t love being with Geno, feeling Geno’s skin on his own.

“It’ll be fine, G,” Sid said. “It’s dark, it’s the middle of the night. Everyone’s asleep. And it’s not as if we’re doing it on a bench on the Riverwalk for anyone to stroll by. I’m pretty sure the only thing likely to wander by here is a bird, and they have enough sense to be asleep now, too.”

“OK, OK,” Geno said, punctuating his agreement with a firm squeeze before sliding one finger low and up along the crack of Sid’s ass. “Not gonna complain about have sex with you, you know, anywhere. … Want I get more lube?”

“No,” Sid said. “I don’t want you to go anywhere. And I’m still pretty wet, I think — you came pretty hard.”

“God, Sid,” Geno said, pressing his forehead into Sid’s shoulder. “First ask me to fill you up, then remind me you already full of my come. Gonna kill me.”

“As long as you’re in me when that happens, then we’ll both die happy,” Sid said, the smile obvious in his voice.

Geno huffed a resigned breath against Sid’s neck and slipped a second hand into Sid’s shorts.

“Gonna need these off,” he said.

Sid waited for Geno to push his shorts past his hips and then stepped out of them as they hit the balcony floor, flicking his foot to send them back toward the sliding door. The shorts were pretty standard black gym shorts — except for the small yellow 87 on one leg — and Sid didn’t need them falling off of the balcony for someone else to find in a few hours and wonder about.

He wanted to complain when he felt Geno shift back, but he didn’t have time before Geno was stepping forward again and the lightweight microfiber of the hotel robe had given way to nothing but skin-to-skin contact.

Sid shivered with the heat of their bodies pressed together in the otherwise mild night air, the sides of Geno’s robe brushing Sid’s now-bare hips as it fell around them. Despite his determination not to miss a second of the view, Sid’s eyes slid closed for a moment as he centered himself in the contact, his hips automatically sliding back, searching.

It wasn’t much of a search — Geno’s now fully interested dick was never going to be hard to find — and Sid let his hand drift back again to Geno’s hip, his fingers ghosting over firm, hot skin under the edges of the robe before sinking in and tugging forward.

Geno ran his hands down Sid’s ribs, across his hips, until his thumbs kneaded at Sid’s ass, separating the cheeks and letting his dick slot into place between them. Sid felt the head of Geno’s dick slide along his crease, nudging at his hole, which still was sensitive and damp.

He squirmed and Geno groaned, his grip on Sid tightening as his dick almost slipped inside.

“Sure you not need more lube?” he asked, his voice quiet but his restraint evident in the way his breath frayed around the edges.

“I’m fine, G,” Sid assured him. “I just want you in me.”

Those words were either all the confirmation Geno needed or the ones that broke his final thread of control. Another grasp at Sid’s cheeks and G was there, the head of his dick breaching Sid’s rim and quietly, definitively sliding home until he was buried deep in Sid.

Geno tucked himself along Sid’s back, wrapping one arm around his midsection and bringing the other up until he could clasp Sid’s hand where his fingers now curled around the railing. Sid inhaled again, letting Geno’s scent mingle with the night air in his nose, tasting him in the back of his throat. He clenched around Geno’s length and was gratified to feel the shudder that ran the span of Geno’s body.

“This what you want, _lyubov_?” Geno asked.

“Yeah,” Sid breathed. “It’s perfect.”

Sid let himself be surrounded by Geno, cocooned not just by the loose edges of his robe as they brushed tantalizingly against his skin in the light breeze but enveloped by his body, his arms, his smell. With another unblinking look at the scene in front of him, beneath him, the crescent moon flat on its back in the cloudless, starless sky, Sid finally tore his eyes away and looked down as he turned his hand to more fully entwine his fingers with Geno’s. 

Then it was his turn to shiver, a slight gasp making its way past his lips when he saw the gray belt of Geno’s robe lying across his wrist where Geno apparently had dragged it — accidentally or otherwise — as he had reached for Sid’s hand.

This wasn’t something they did. But here, as on the ice, Geno seemed to read Sid’s mind and know exactly where to take the play, untangling their fingers to lift the strip of fabric and loop it gently around Sid’s wrist, once, twice and then around the rail before letting the tail dangle. It wasn’t tight and, really, all Sid had to do to get loose was move his hand. But why would he do that, when G was so thoroughly grounding him in the moment?

“Move?” Sid asked when he was able.

And in this, Geno again came through, not rushing but pulling out carefully and sliding home once more — the barest hint of emphasis as Geno’s groin pressed firm against Sid’s ass — before establishing a slow, steady rhythm that for all its care was every bit as intense as their earlier, more frantic coupling.

Time might have stood still after that, Sid didn’t know, didn’t care. They weren’t in danger of missing the bus to the airport, so he didn’t have to think. Instead, he gave himself over to the sensations of the moment — the lights, marshmallow soft on the blanket of darkness; the water below even darker; the breeze, freed from the midday heat both by the night and the height; and Geno, everywhere, surrounding him, in him, filling him.

He shifted his weight to the hand still tied to the railing and moved his other hand to wrap around Geno’s neck, turning his head and pulling Geno in for a sensuous slide of lips and tongues that had Sid suddenly feeling an urgency he hadn’t since stepping foot on the balcony.

“Fuck,” he gasped, dragging his fingers through the short hairs on the back of Geno’s neck and down as he lowered his hand to wrap it around his dick. “Fuck, make me come, Geno. I need to come.” 

“Anything, Sid,” Geno said lowly, the whisper of his breath tickling the shell of Sid’s ear as he shifted his hips and slid in that extra little bit that had Sid seeing stars where the night sky had been empty a moment earlier. 

Sid let his head fall, his eyes no longer focused on the scenery but on the solidity of his dick and the feel of his fingers working his length. Then Geno ran a hand up Sid’s torso, from his navel to his throat, pushing up under Sid’s chin with a careful but determined finger.

“Don’t forget the view, _lyubov_,” he whispered. “It never going to be as gorgeous as you, but you want to remember, you should remember.”

Sid let his eyes flutter shut for a moment, gratitude and love for Geno washing over him like an ocean wave, before he opened his eyes and focused again on the horizon, scanning to take it all in.

When his eyes dropped to the water below, mere ripples in the darkness just beyond the edge of the restaurant’s dim after-hours lights, Sid felt all of these sensations rip through him, a tsunami threatening to drown him, Geno determined to anchor him in the moment.

He barely had time to angle his hand around the head of his dick before he was coming hot and hard for a second time that night, clenching around Geno and triggering his release, deep inside Sid.

“I love you, G,” he said, the words coming out in gasps as Sid worked to regain his breath. “Thank you.”

“You always welcome, Sid,” Geno said softly against Sid’s temple. “You know this. Only stupid person say no to always-hot sex with you, and I’m not stupid. Plus, I love you, too. Even if sex was bad, would still want it with you. Because is you.”

“Come on,” Sid said, finally having had his fill of the view from the balcony for a bit. He patted at Geno’s thigh. “Let’s get some sleep. Maybe we can set the alarm for 6.”

“Why, Sid?” Geno asked, that put-upon tone in his voice — the one Sid recognized as purely show — providing a bit of distraction as Geno shifted his weight and withdrew. “Why you like this? Normal people sleep in, especially when blackout curtains keep daylight out, plane not leave until late.”

“OK, fine,” Sid said, a knowing grin curling along one side of his face as he turned and met Geno’s eyes. “I just thought we might want to see what the view is like in a few hours, for comparison, but if you’d rather sleep …” 

Sid hadn’t quite made it to two in his silent count when the look on Geno’s face made it clear that he had translated the words Sid had left unspoken.

“No,” Geno said. “You right. Of course you right. Not every day we can see Tampa at sunrise. Should for sure set alarm for 6 a.m., see what view is like then.” 

“Anything you say, G,” Sid said, pressing his lips to Geno’s in a quick, filthy kiss before snagging his discarded shorts from the balcony flooring with his toes and flipping them up to catch one-handed. He then used them to wipe the pool of come from his palm as he pushed aside the blackout curtain and stepped into the dim light of the room. A few more steps, shorts once again discarded on the floor, and Sid was falling into bed, untangling the sheets and comforter just enough to pull them up around his waist.

“Not need in the bathroom then?” Geno asked. “Not need pee, or clean up?”

“Nope,” Sid said, popping the P even as the word came out languid and sounding just as satisfied as Sid felt. “I like it when you make a mess of me. And since I intend for you to do it again in a couple of hours …”

Sid might have heard a gobsmacked gurgle come from Geno’s general direction, but he was too sated and the bed too comfortable for him to pay it much heed. He knew Geno would read this play just as well as he always did and sunrise was going to be spectacular.

**Author's Note:**

> I _really_ enjoyed Tampa! (Not as much as fictional Sid and Geno, but ... )
> 
> BTW, [this was 6 a.m.](https://66.media.tumblr.com/7fb3fb3646f2c4ac0bcd3ac4d21d4292/5513d3e3a25f924a-66/s540x810/31fea77bc7017ec931ad43bf6612da3d9ed8d833.jpg)


End file.
